


Never Thought I'd See You Smile Again

by ChElFi



Series: I Don't Dance [27]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers as Parents, Birthday, Birthday Presents, Captain Hill - Freeform, Day 27, Established Captain Hill, Established Relationship, F/M, On One of Their Birthdays, POV Male Character, Pepperony - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Single POV, Steve's Pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2367413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChElFi/pseuds/ChElFi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's 102nd birthday ends a little better than it started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Thought I'd See You Smile Again

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I started this story way back when I was writing "Suffering Is a Guarantee..." At the time I was trying to post one happy little story along with the depressing one each week. So I got this idea of Steve holding their baby one night and having nice daddy thoughts. It took about five paragraphs before the poor guy ended up with PTSD. So I shelved it for later. I liked the story, though, so I brought it out again for this part. I actually did suffer from PTSD years ago after my son was in the NICU for six weeks after his birth. But back then no one knew that NICU parents regularly suffer from PTSD, that is only a recent development. Anyway, at some point I hope to write out the whole story and post it.
> 
> The title is from the Eagles song "You Are Not Alone."
> 
> Please R&R. I appreciate them all.

Independence Day found Steve celebrating his birthday in a far more subdued manner than previous years. Tony, surprisingly, had come up with the idea of the picnic at the park. It was just the two families, Tony and Pepper with their daughter, and Steve and Maria with theirs. They had spread a large blanket out under the shade of a tree and Steve leaned against the trunk.

He watched the people around him in silence. His own family, the other families, were all enjoying the festivities and each other's company. He tried to pull himself out of his internal struggle as he watched his little girl toddle over carefully and hand Maria a flower she had picked from the grass.

"She's so much like her dad, huh?" Pepper laughed and looked at Steve.

He smiled at her and hoped it appeared genuine.

Steve hated this, hated not being able to get past the terror of what had happened to his wife and daughter. It should be easy, he kept telling himself regardless what the therapist told him. He'd been in battles and lost friends, he'd lost everyone he knew when he woke from the ice 70 years after taking the Valkyrie down. Sure, he'd _almost_ lost Maria and Hope, but it wasn't the same. And he couldn't believe differently no matter what anyone said.

"That reminds me," Tony said, breaking into Steve's self-deprecating thoughts. "We have a birthday present for you."

Steve's friend reached into one of the bags and pulled out a small gift wrapped in blue paper with white stars.

The others laughed, and Steve pretended to join them. He caught a nervous look in Tony's eyes. He knew the man was questioning the wisdom of the gift and Steve wondered what it could be that would make him feel that way.

Tony had been trying to help Steve ever since the diagnosis of PTSD had become known to him. He'd been through it himself but Steve had argued that it was for a better reason. Tony had leveled a hard gaze at him.

_"I can tell you without a doubt that facing losing Pepper and Mia would be a hundred times worse than anything that happened in New York."_

Steve tore open the gift and stared in surprise. Beside him, Maria gave an audible gasp. They both recognized it as a frame some well-meaning person had given Maria at her baby shower. There were three places for photos. On the left was a space to put a baby picture of the father, on the right one for the mother, and in the middle was one for their own child, ostensibly to see which parent the child looked most like.

There were no baby pictures of Steve to be found, and the earliest picture of Maria showed a battered and broken two-year-old lying in a hospital bed. Steve's throat tightened at the thought. He had promised her he'd make up for all that pain, that he would never let anything hurt her again, and then he'd gone and. Maria's hand on his arm interrupted his thought and he knew she was attempting to calm him. He gave her a tight smile.

"Where'd you get these pictures?" Steve asked, wishing his voice wasn't so rough with emotion.

"I had JARVIS do a reverse aging thing," Tony explained, his voice a mixture of concern and hope.

Steve couldn't be angry. Tony and Maria had been infinitely patient throughout this mess.

Steve looked at the three photos and allowed himself a slight smile. From the beginning everyone had said his daughter looked like him. He didn't want to see it. He looked for Maria's features in their daughter almost constantly. It seemed to him that it would be more fitting if the girl looked like her mother since her mother had nearly died just to give her life.

But there was no denying that these photos made it appear that his daughter really had turned out to look just like him.

"Thank you." Steve managed to choke out, and he hoped he didn't sound bitter. It was just wrong for the child to have so much of him in her. What if Maria hadn't made it? What if all Steve had left was their daughter? How would he be reminded of his wife then?

The adults around him were laughing now and it drew Steve's attention to the babies. Mia had fallen and Steve's daughter was trying to help her up. The fact that Mia was twice as big as Hope was what made it so comical. And so Steve-like, he knew they were all thinking.

But, dammit, it was Maria-like, too. Didn't people see that? How could they not when she had stood by him through all of this? She had supported him and encouraged him and never doubted.

Maria reached over and took his hand in hers. Then she leaned up against his shoulder and pulled his arm around her. It only served to remind him of how horrible a husband he'd been over the past year. She'd been the one reaching to comfort him, when he could barely bring himself to touch her.

Hours later, back in the same position, their daughter sleeping on Maria's chest, Steve tried to enjoy the fireworks. He turned to look at Maria and could see the sadness in her eyes that she always tried to hide. She covered it quickly when she noticed him watching, the turned and smiled up at him.

Steve wanted to lean down and kiss her, his whole being ached for the contact, but he couldn't. He didn't even know why not.

Maria waited for a moment, probably wanting the same thing. The she turned away and rested her head back on his shoulder, where she could hide her disappointment from him.

It was midnight before they arrived home. Steve watched Maria put their daughter in her crib then he stared at the unfinished mural on the wall, a constant reminder of how things had almost been cut short, of how he'd almost lost them both. The therapist had encouraged him to finish it, but Steve had lost his vision for it.

Maria walked toward him and pulled his hand as she encouraged him to come to bed. He watched her undress out of the corner of his eye. He didn't realize he was staring at the scar on her abdomen until she interrupted his thoughts.

"Stop, Steve," she admonished.

She pulled a pajama shirt on and walked over to where he was seated on the bed. She placed her hand on his cheek and Steve wanted to lean into her touch, desired her comfort, but he couldn't. He didn't deserve it.

"You think I don't know what you're telling yourself?" she asked. Her voice was gentle and he just wanted to take her in his arms, bury his face in her neck, and release all his pain.

It wouldn't matter if he did today. In a week it would be their daughter's birthday, another trigger. Then September would bring another. How they came home on Melissa's birthday Steve had never managed to deal with at all. Maria had assured him it was perfect, a happy thing on what had once been such a painful day. But it only reminded Steve that he'd been responsible for putting a scar on top of the one Maria's mother had given her.

"Steve."

Maria's voice was barely a whisper.

He couldn't look at her. He reached out and pressed his hand against her abdomen to feel the scar. It seemed thicker than the first time he felt it all those years ago after she told him about Melissa. He had promised then that he would make up for that pain. They had agreed to no children, the doctors weren't sure Maria could even conceive, and no one could assure Steve that the super soldier serum would not pass on to his child.

They had been cautious, mostly. But there had been a few times they'd "slipped up" and nothing had happened. Then, Steve got sloppy and selfish. If he'd only waited a few hours until the store opened. If he'd only controlled himself that long. Dammit, he'd controlled himself for nearly three years before they were married. He couldn't wait three hours?

"Steve!"

Maria's voice was louder now and pulled him out of his dark thoughts. He looked at her and was surprised to find he was gasping for breath. His eyes darted around the room as if for a threat until he felt Maria's hands on his face, turning it to look at her.

He finally looked into her eyes. They were calm and sure. He'd seen that look many times over the years. It was the one she'd worn in battle, the one that assured her troops that things would be fine, that they would come out on top. He had always loved that look.

Slowly, he calmed as he stared at her. She never wavered, her gaze never left his. Without thinking, he reached up and touched her face.

"You are so beautiful," Steve whispered.

He almost smiled at her, he could feel it tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm so sorry," he told her.

He said it a lot these days. He couldn't stop himself. At the beginning, before she realized how deep his hurt was, she had tried to assure him. Now she didn't use her words. At heart, they were both soldiers and a multitude of words just confused things for them. Give them a task, a battle, something to do, that they could understand. The therapist had explained to Steve that this was probably one of the problems, there was nothing he could do. No one could change the past.

"There's nothing to be sorry for anymore," she said.

Hesitantly, she leaned down to kiss him.

"Maria," he breathed out. "I don't."

"It's OK," she said. "I understand."

She began to turn away but he grabbed hold of her hands and turned her back to him.

Maria's face was masked, and Steve cursed himself again.

"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed," he told her.

She surprised him with a smirk and a chuckle.

"You've never disappointed me," she said.

"I don't know if I can," he started to reply.

She put a finger to his mouth.

"It's OK," she said.

"No, Maria, it's not," he told her. "You've put up with more than you should have to, you deserve better."

Then Maria, to his very great surprise, began to laugh, a deep, hearty laugh. She laughed so much she had to sit down on the bed beside him. Steve had no idea what he'd said that was so hilarious. He briefly considered that he might have driven her mad, but that thought almost made him laugh himself.

Finally she calmed down enough to get out some words between gasps for breath.

"Dear g-d," she said. "You sound like me."

Then she broke into fits of laughter again and fell back onto the bed.

Steve continued to stare at her in astonishment.

Shortly he heard some noise from his daughter's room. He worried that maybe Maria's laughter had woken Hope and he stood to check on her.

When he walked into the room he found Hope standing in the crib and laughing as she chewed on one of her toys. When she saw him she dropped the toy from her mouth and started saying, "mamamamamama" and reached out her skinny arms to tell him she wanted him to pick her up.

Steve pulled her out of her crib then carried her back to Maria who was now sitting on the bed, catching her breath. Hope reached out her arms to Maria when she saw her and Steve handed the girl over to her mother.

Their daughter gave Maria an Eskimo kiss and Maria started laughing again. Then Hope turned back to Steve and held out her arms to him. He sat next to them on the bed and she crawled into his lap. Putting her hands to his face, she seemed to be trying to force his lips into a smile.

Steve cleared his throat and attempted to force back the emotions that, again, threatened.

He felt Maria move next to him and he turned to her.

"I'm sorry, Steve," she said. "I didn't mean to laugh at you. I know what's happening is serious."

She trailed off and Hope sat down so she was using both their legs as a seat.

"It's been a long time since I heard you really laugh," he said. "I haven't been a very good husband lately."

"You've been hurting," she said.

"That's no excuse," he started.

"Yes, it is," she interrupted. "Sometimes we have to heal after something like that. You did before, didn't you?"

Steve nodded.

"I just wish you'd let me help you like you used to," she said, her voice was soft and sad.

Steve turned to look at her.

Hope had rested her head on Maria's shoulder and had moved her thumb into her mouth. Her big blue eyes were gazing up at him. When he looked at Maria, her own eyes were sad, but strong. He had forgotten just how strong she was.

Taking a fortifying breath, he cautiously leaned over and kissed her forehead. It had been so long since he'd pressed his lips to her skin. He began to shake as he kissed her eyes, then her mouth. Then he shifted himself and took them both into his embrace.

Maria's arm went around his back as he haltingly allowed himself to break in front of her. In his mind he was still in the hospital, making time between the two beds, the two rooms, the two floors. The tubes and the monitors reminding him of the frailty of the people he loved.

He held them both more tightly and, to his surprise, Hope didn't protest, she simply sighed and snuggled in closer to him. And then the dam broke and everything poured out. Maria quietly held him and rubbed his back with the arm that was around him as they both held Hope.

He never knew how long they sat like that, how long Maria listened to him cry. He didn't check the clock, he only paid attention to the two people he loved the most, wrapped in his arms.

"If I ever lost either of you, I swear I don't know what I'd do," he said when he finally regained control of his emotions.

Maria gave no reply, just held him more tightly.

After a moment he noticed that Hope had gone back to sleep, a moment later he finally noticed Maria's stifled yawns. He pulled them both down onto the bed with him and reached down to pull the quilt up.

Maria had reached over to the side table and grabbed the box of Kleenex and handed it to him. He wiped his face and nose, feeling slightly embarrassed at how emotional he'd been in front of her. But when he looked at her he saw the first genuine smile he'd seen in months.

Steve leaned down and kissed her slowly and gently, then he laid down on the bed and pulled Maria and Hope into his arms then allowed the sounds of their steady breaths to lull him into the first sound sleep he'd had in a year.


End file.
